Review

I am prone to believe that there is still hope for indie music. Not that it’d be in a particularly bad, or even moribund shape, but let’s be honest with ourselves that it isn’t in as strong a presence or as influential a phenomenon as it once was. Today we are reduced to listening to either washed out twee glitter waste, or to a line of somewhat lamentable revivalists. But I do still hold on hope that it is not going to fall into complete shapelessness or banality. At the very least I always could hope for decent enough execution within those styles. So when it comes to the latest Fiction Aisle release, I am somewhat torn, although my mind is now mostly made up.

This album is good. I do understand that it is a strange instance of that aforementioned washed out lounge mood-setter, but with a stronger instrumental presence. But it is also a strongly executed piece with above and beyond pretty melodies and a certain cleverness about how to go about turning them into something remarkable by playing on increasing intensity of the music and adding or changing the instrumental line-up.

Still, in spite of how tenderly engulfing and pleasantly warming this record is, I do carry on the feeling that I’ve heard it somewhere. At the very least I feel like it is –if not derivative- unimaginative. And considering the smart use of sound and instrumental layers, as mentioned above, this is really strange. I do not understand why it keeps leaving that aftertaste. And no matter how much I’ve tried, I just can’t figure out the ‘why’ of it. So the only real way out is to try and forget all about it and enjoy the truly intricate sweetness of the song-writing and the staggering musical finesse displayed here, because if anything, that is something I can point out with certainty.